


An Epilogue and a Beginning

by Mistress_of_Squirrels



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amputation, Explicit Language, F/M, POV Iron Bull, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Content, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4830155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_of_Squirrels/pseuds/Mistress_of_Squirrels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adaar deals with the aftermath of the attempted qunari invasion, and the betrayal of a close friend. Bull knows it's something she has to work through, but he's going to be there while she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Epilogue and a Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> First: This will have heavy spoilers for the Trespasser DLC. 
> 
> I loved the epilogue, but it was rather vague and left a lot to the imagination. This is just my attempt to conclude my inquisitor's story, and fill in some of the gaps the game left.

It had taken every bit of self control he possessed to stop himself from trying to smash through the damned mirror. Only Dorian's insistence that doing so could trap his kadan on the other side held him back. Not even the mage could say just what had happened. All they knew was that after Adaar walked through, the mirror went dark, resisting all their efforts to follow.

Panic seized his heart like a vice. He growled and paced, cursing the qunari, the elves, and the weird ass magic that allowed this forsaken place to exist. He needed to kill something, violently, but they were alone. The qunari were either all dead, or had retreated to some other part of the crossroads. Too bad. His former people would have made perfect targets to vent the rage that simmered just beneath his skin. It was their fucking invasion that led his kadan here in the first place.

Cole assured him that Adaar was as of yet unharmed, but seemed troubled that he could not hear more. Something was blocking him, something _powerful_. He said a bunch of other shit in that creepy way of his that made about as much sense as it usually did, so not much at all. He loved the kid, he really did, but right now he didn't have the patience to decipher Cole-speak. The spirit-turned-human seemed to understand and the three companions fell into a tense silence.

He couldn't say how long they were there. There was something about this place that seemed to mess with his perception of time, not unlike the Fade.

And how fucked up was it that he actually had a comparison?

Just as he was about to lose his mind from the waiting, the mirror flared to life in a blinding flash. Without stopping to see if Dorian or Cole were behind him, he pushed his way through.

He could live a thousand years, and it would still not be enough time to forget the way he found her.

Adaar was on her knees, head bowed as she curled in on herself. Her shoulders jerked with short, rhythmic, hiccuping sobs, and for a moment, all he could feel was dizzying relief.

She was still alive.

As he walked around to see her face, the feeling evaporated, chased away by cold dread. She cradled her left arm close to her chest, or at least what was left of it. The limb ended in a clean stump just below her elbow.

“Kadan...?”

Slowly, Adaar raised her head, though she would not look him in the eye. Her fingers clutched so tightly at her left bicep that the knuckles were white and her face was a bloodless mask, devoid of all emotion. Her breath still came in hitches, but it had started to slow, he noted.

_Well, that was something._

He sank to his knees in front of her, ignoring the ache as his joints protested the abuse. At a loss for words, he searched her face, desperate for some sign of what she needed right now. Normally so expressive, Adaar gave nothing away, and falling back on instinct, he gently folded her into his arms. She was rigid at first, but made no move to push him off so he simply held her. Her body relaxed by degrees until eventually, her head came to rest on his shoulder. Still, she did not speak.

Dorian and Cole had joined them by then, and he could see them hovering over by the mirror, as though fearful of coming any closer. Dorian's eyes were fixed on Adaar's missing arm, his full mouth twisted in sorrow. The 'Vint looked like he might cry. Cole, for once, had nothing to say. For a brief moment, he wondered if that meant the kid knew there was no way to help. Just as quickly, he chased the errant thought away. That shit wasn't going to do anyone any good.

Adaar gave a last shuddering sigh and pulled away. “We need to go back. There's...much to discuss.”

He released her and stood, fierce pride flowing through him when his kadan finally met his eye, a silent warning burning in her own. Without a word, she pushed herself to her feet with her remaining hand and turned back toward the eluvian. “Let's go.”

He nodded. “Sure thing, Boss.”

Back at the Winter Palace, she called a meeting with the inner circle, stiffly ignoring their horrified faces. In a wooden voice, she detailed her encounter with Solas – or was it Fen'Harel now? Seriously, what the fuck?!

As she explained what little she knew of the elf mage's plans, her voice cracked. She paused to clear her throat, blinking rapidly a few times before she could continue. When she was finished, she looked around the room as though seeking opinions, but the hard press of her lips, the stubborn jut to her chin, made it clear that she'd reached a decision and wouldn't be budged.

She wanted to save the elf.

He sighed. Of course she did. Solas or whatever the fuck he called himself now wanted to destroy the _world_ in an attempt to bring back the ancient elves, and _he_ was the one who needed saving.

Solas had always been weird with that creepy demon fetish, but he was a decent guy, as far as he was concerned. He cared about people, or at least, he acted like he did; hard to say what an elven god cared about. But this idea of tearing down the veil, letting every demon ever just wander around as they pleased...that topped the list of crazy, and he'd seen some messed up shit during his time with the Inquisition.

On the other hand, the mage had saved his kadan, and Bull could kiss him for that.

It had cost Adaar her hand, but Bull would have taken that himself if he'd been certain it would actually work. He knew that damn mark was killing her, could see how it had grown to envelop her arm, and as much as she tried to hide it, Adaar knew it, too. He heard it in her voice when she told him she loved him, right before they'd went back into the crossroads. She'd been saying goodbye, and it wasn't the qunari she was worried about.

So maybe the mage had earned himself a reprieve. Not like he had much chance against someone that could turn people to stone with his eyes, anyway.

The meeting didn't last much longer after that. Most of those present had their own lives to return to, and he figured it'd be Adaar stuck with cleaning this up. Again. And there were still those assholes at the council to deal with. With all the interruptions, they never got the chance to properly whine their displeasure about the Inquisition. Funny how none of them had anything to say when his kadan was out saving their asses for them.

Adaar didn't waste any time setting the council straight. She marched in, flashed that book the seeker was so fond of, and disbanded the Inquisition on the spot. She gave some speech about the organization outgrowing it's purpose and walked out without looking back. It was a nice touch, he thought, meant to soothe the poor nobles' little feelings, but at the same time, making it clear she owed them _nothing_. He would have added a line or two about ungrateful bastards and how they could handle their own affairs from now on, but that wasn't his kadan's way. Not in public, at least.

He thought she might unload once they were alone, but she hardly said anything at all. He held her that night as she slept, thankful that she allowed it. With the way she'd come to bed fully clothed, he wasn't sure just how much of herself she would hold back from him. She'd never been shy before, and she damn sure had never been ashamed of her body. She didn't so much as flinch when she first saw the ruined mess of his eye, so he doubted it was the hand itself that was causing her to withdraw. She was a beautiful woman, but aside from the ridiculous length of her hair, she didn't put any effort into her appearance, so it wasn't vanity, or insecurity about her looks.

Suddenly, it hit him, and he silently cursed himself for not figuring it out sooner. Maybe he was losing his touch.

Adaar hated weakness, or rather, she hated weakness in herself, and could not tolerate feeling vulnerable. She'd been raised and trained as a scout and was used to independence. She took pride in her skill with a bow, and he had to admit, she deserved every bit of it. She was deadly on the battlefield, sneaking in to lay her traps and then expertly herding her enemies towards them with her arrows. He'd never seen a fighting style quite like it, had even wondered at her decision to begin training with Three-Eyes, but he would never question the effectiveness of what she had learned from the strange man.

He tore through his opponents in combat with brutal speed; Adaar patiently led hers to their demise. It was a sight to behold.

And now it was over.

Blades could be wielded with one hand. It might take some getting used to, but it could be done. She was decent enough with her daggers and still had her dominant hand, but she truly loved her bow. Try as he might, he could not see a way around a missing hand for that.

He grunted, dropping a kiss to her temple. Adaar scrunched up her face, but didn't wake. This was the woman who helped form the Inquisition. She recruited the rebel mages, and somehow got everyone to play nice with them. By _talking_. She defeated Corypheus, prevented his fucked up version of the future from ever happening, walked into the Fade like it was a trip to the market, and killed dragons for fun. Even if her fighting days were over, she was still the toughest person he knew. She would always be his badass kadan. Now, to get her to see that.

When he woke the next morning, Adaar was already gone. He hoped she just needed some time to herself, or was among friends. If those assholes thought they were going to get anything else from her, he'd be the first to set them straight. She'd given enough for Ferelden and Orlais, only for them to turn on her at the first opportunity. While he could understand their concerns and agreed that the time for the Inquisition had passed, it was never that simple where politics were concerned. They'd bleed her dry if they thought there was something left to gain, and she just might let them out of some misplaced sense of obligation. Damned if he was going to sit back and let that happen.

They were leaving Orlais sometime today to begin the trip back to Skyhold. While officially disbanded, there were still a few things that needed to be taken care of before the heads of the Inquisition went their separate ways. After that, well...he didn't really know what she wanted to do after that. There hadn't been a chance to talk about with her about what would happen once this was all over.

He knew from Varric that she had a place in Kirkwall if she wanted it – fancy title too, though he could see her being less happy about that- and that the Valo-kas were already there. Maybe some time with her family would do her good. With a sigh, he flung back the covers and dressed, leaving their borrowed quarters to track down Krem. He had a few things of his own to take care of.

 

*****

  
Hundreds turned up to watch their departure from Orlais, their reactions mixed. Some were all too happy to see the end of the Inquisition, while others truly lamented its loss. He could see fear as they wondered how long this hard won but still fragile peace would last without the organization, and he could see relief that an army that rivaled any kingdom's in southern Thedas had dissolved without incident. Others regretted the lost chance to leash that power for their own purposes, and once again, he found himself agreeing with his kadan's choice to deny them that victory. Inquisition soldiers deserved better than to end up as some asshole's pawns in Orlais' Great Game.

The return to Skyhold took longer than he'd expected. It seemed no one was really in a hurry to get back and undo all they'd worked for over the last few years. Adaar rarely spoke, and when she did, her words were clipped, as blunt and to the point as possible. She didn't smile, not once the whole way back, and after a time, he gave up trying to get her to.

Her advisors cast worried looks at him when they thought she wouldn't see them. Maybe she didn't; he couldn't tell. That worried him, too. Adaar was shit at hiding what she was feeling. If it wasn't on her face, chances were, it just wasn't there. The thought left him cold.

Whatever Solas had done to her hand, he'd done it clean. Aside from what was missing, there was no injury left to heal, and the cuts and bruises she'd gotten from the qunari had faded in a matter of days. Her wounds weren't physical, and while he was good at getting into someone's head, he wasn't much use when it came to actually fixing what was there. That was the kind of thing Cole was good at, but Adaar had sent him off with the bard. Whatever was going on, she wanted to deal with it on her own.

One thing gave him hope: no matter how detached she might be during the day, she always joined him at night, curling beside him in their tent, wrapping herself around his body so tightly he could feel the desperation that drove her. He held her just as tight. She was still his kadan, and he wasn't going anywhere.

He never knew just how much he relied on his ability to read her. It was the compass that guided him through the unfamiliar terrain of their relationship. There were times when she resented that skill – his kadan could be quite the little cheat when she had a mind to, and she'd taken creative measures in the past to throw him off. This was different, like suddenly going blind. He had no idea what she needed right now, and that bothered him as much as her withdrawal.

It reminded him all too much of what he'd seen in men left in Seheron for too long. _Asala-taar_. The word came unbidden, and he forced it back. No, she wasn't that far gone; that she still sought him out was proof of that. It wouldn't be easy, for either of them, he suspected, but he could still reach her.

With no alternative, he decided to find out what he could, push a bit if he had to. It wasn't likely to make things any worse, at least.

He waited until they were in the relative privacy of their tent. A hush had fallen over the camp, so he knew everyone was alseep. The seeker had the first watch, but she had a habit of patrolling the perimeter, so he wasn't worried about being overheard.

Adaar lay with her head resting on his shoulder, fingers splayed out over his chest, long legs tangled with his own. Her breath was even, but not slow enough to indicate she slept. Every now and then, he could feel the flutter of her lashes as she stared into the gloom.

“Did he hurt you, Kadan?” His voice was a bare whisper as he stroked one callused finger along her arm to indicate what he meant.

She was silent for so long he thought she wouldn't answer. He wasn't even sure if he actually wanted to hear the answer in the first place. If the elf had hurt her.... Even that barbaric surgeon back at Skyhold enlisted a mage for a basic sleep spell before she started cutting into someone. If Solas, Adaar's supposed friend, hadn't even offered her at least that courtesy, he'd see to it that that fucking elf lost a few limbs of his own. Somehow.

After what seemed like hours, the smallest shake of her head calmed the growing rage, and the red that had begun to invade his vision receded.

“No,” she whispered at last. “Seems like it should have, but it didn't hurt. It was cold at first, then heavy and numb, like holding up my bow for too long. And then, nothing. It was just...gone. No blood, no pain. _Nothing_.”

The tension bled out of him, escaping his lungs in a heavy sigh. “Good.”

There might be hope for the elf yet.

She shifted, propping herself up against his chest with her hand. “I know you want me to talk about it, Bull. And I will.” She brushed her forehead against the stubble of his cheek and then settled back down beside him. “Just not tonight.”

He pulled her closer, tucking her against him, and let it go at that. It was the most she'd said in weeks. He wasn't so foolish as to think that everything was suddenly okay, but for a moment, she'd sounded like herself. His kadan was still in there, and for the time being, that would have to be enough.

 

*****

  
They reached Skyhold soon after that night, and he resigned himself to moving on Adaar's timetable. She began to interact with the others more, though it was hard to say how much of that was her choice. There was still business that had to be sorted out, and she was still the one they looked to to get it done.

She went from silent and withdrawn to moody and sullen. Some days, she seemed to be looking for a fight, and would purposely try to start arguments with him. Sometimes, he argued back, not for any real desire to defend his position against her- half the time, he wasn't even sure what they were fighting about- but because it was something he could do. It almost made sense, even.

For close to five years, she'd been in control of the most powerful organization in Thedas. In the span of a few hours, all that had come crashing down, and to top it all off, she'd been betrayed by one of her closest friends. 'Cause the people you worked your ass off to save turning on you wasn't enough, no! Let's throw in something _personal_.

His kadan wasn't power-hungry by any means, but she had definite issues with losing control. It was why she'd chosen to disband rather than see the Inquistion leashed, or be torn apart by inevitable corruption.

The Breach had turned her life upside down once before, and she'd dealt with it by throwing herself head first into her work for the Inquisition. Now, that was gone. He still had his mercenary work, but Adaar had lost even that.

If these verbal sparring matches helped her let off some steam, he was more than willing to go along with it, no matter how pointless he thought it all was. He didn't like it, but he got it. Sort of. And if things went beyond what he thought they ought to, he simply disengaged. It infuriated her, but he wasn't going to allow either of them to inflict lasting damage.

They still hadn't talked about where they would go, and things at Skyhold were just about wrapped up. He supposed they could stay where they were for a while longer, but the fortress was starting to get pretty empty.Those few that had made the trip back were eager to return to their lives. Wouldn't be long before it was just the two of them here.

He found her in her chamber late one afternoon and decided now was as good a time as any to bring the topic up. “Hey, Kadan.” Cautiously, he sat down beside her.

She didn't look up, eyes fixed on the bow she held in her good hand. It was a beautiful weapon, carved dragons winding around either side of the grip, the limbs styled into outstretched wings. She'd had that bow since the day he met her, and no matter what they came across on their travels, she'd never replaced it. No amount of enchantments or upgrades could convince her to part with the weapon, and he'd come to think of it as just another part of her.

And then, another piece to the puzzle fell into place and he swore softly to himself. Losing the bow was like losing her hand all over again, just another piece of herself that she'd sacrificed for a world that would never fully appreciate just what she'd given to protect it.

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close, because there was really nothing he could say.

She ran her thumb along the polished wood of the bow and then leaned it against the bed and sighed. “I'm sorry, Bull,” she said, voice muffled against his chest.

“Yeah? Why's that?”

“You know why,” she snorted. “I'm aware that I haven't been the easiest person to live with lately. None of this was your fault, or even your problem, really, and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair of me. I'm sorry.”

He pulled her into his lap, tilting her head so he could meet her eyes. “Not my fault, sure. I'll give you that. But not my problem?” He shook his head bringing one hand up to cup her face. “That's a load of crap. You're _my_ kadan. That makes whatever problems you've got mine, too.”

Her teeth fastened onto her lip and she looked away. “That still doesn't make it right. Just because you're willing to put up with it doesn't mean you should have to-”

He leaned in and kissed her, silencing the rest of her argument. “I don't _have_ to,” he said firmly. “You pissed and fighting is better than...whatever the fuck that was a few weeks ago. I haven't been able to get a read on you for a while now, Kadan. Pissed, I can work with. At least it gives me something to go on.”

“Don't you have the Chargers to worry about?”

Crap. He'd thought maybe he'd reached her, but she was pulling away again.

“You trying to get rid of me, Boss?”

“No! And don't call me that! I'm not anyone's boss...not anymore.” Adaar's voice dropped to a whisper on the last word, and she turned away.

He'd used the title out of habit, not as a deliberate attempt to provoke her, but her reaction had more fire to it than anything he'd gotten out of her in weeks. It was further proof that, whatever this was, it was something she could come back from. She just needed to get past what was going on in her head first.

“Hey.” He waited patiently until she turned back to face him. “I didn't mean it like that. Old habits, you know?”

She nodded. “I know, I shouldn't have... I just -” she shook her head angrily and let out a noise of pure frustration.

“Why don't you just tell me what's going on, Kadan? Maybe I can help, maybe I can't, but you don't have to deal with it all on your own.”

“I don't _know_ what's going on,” she exploded. “That's half the problem right there! I mean, I'm pissed about the hand, but it isn't like letting the fucking anchor kill me was a better option.

“I _want_ to hate Solas, but I can't just erase everything that happened between us, all the good he did. I know he cares, Bull! I saw his regret. I can see that he _hates_ what he's going to do, but for some reason, he feels there's no other choice. I _have_ to stop him, not just for Thedas, but for _him_. Somehow, I have to show an elven-fucking-god that there's another way, so he doesn't rush into something he'll regret. _Again_. The best part is I'm not even entirely sure what he's trying to do in the first place!”

Adaar sank down onto the bed and her shoulders slumped. She looked at him then and he could see the tired smudges that bruised her eyes. “And honestly? I have no idea where to even begin. I can't even seem to get my own head straightened out.”

“So start there,” he advised. It hurt to see her like this, but at least she was finally opening up to him.

She gave a huff that might have been a laugh were it not for its utter lack of humor. “It's...complicated.”

“I get that. Break it down, then. Make it simple.”

“I just...I feel so _lost_ , Bull. Adrift. I was a mercenary for so long and then the Breach happened. Becoming inquisitor wasn't what I would have chosen, but underneath all the politics, it was close enough to what I was used to that I could make it work.” She shrugged, mouth quirked in what might have been a smile on a better day. “I've always been that mercenary at heart. The Inquisition was just on a larger scale. Now...now, that's all over. I don't know where I fit in to it all anymore, and I hate that I don't know.”

He knew the feeling she described well enough; something similar had plagued him those first months after he was cast out from his former people. He'd been too focused on what was lost to realize that very little had actually changed. It had been terrifying at first, but now he could look back and say it had all been for the best.

After a moment to gather his thoughts, he said, “You don't think you've got a place anymore, is that about right?”

Adaar studied him through narrowed eyes before slowly nodding. “That's a very...qunari way of looking at the situation, but yes, I suppose that sums it up.” She cast a wistful glance at her bow. “This is all I know, Bull.”

“See, that's where you're wrong,” he replied, shaking his head. “On both accounts. Shit, Varric made you nobility, though I can't blame you if you want to be done with that crap. Your family's still around, nothing's changed there. Sera'd love for you to help her steal peoples' pants or throw cheese or whatever it is she does – I'm still not sure what that's about. Point is, you've got options, Kadan.

“You're a Tal-Vashoth that managed to lead an organization that was mostly human _and_ Andrastian. You'll find your way, wherever you decide to go. And you'll always have a place with me.”

“A Charger?” she asked doubtfully, but there was a hint of something in her eyes that had been missing for far too long.

“Sure. I told you I was shit at leading unless I knew who was sleeping with who. Got that part covered already.”

“I suppose you could use someone to balance the books,” she laughed bitterly.

“Nah, I never kept track of that crap. No point in it by the time everyone has their cut and the tab is paid.”

Adaar frowned and looked away. His kadan was a stubborn shit when she put her mind to it. There were times when he admired that in her. This was not one of those times.

“Look,” he tried again. “There's nothing saying you can't still fight, but even if you couldn't, that's not all there is to you. You know something about plants; you could help Stitches mix up potions-”

“Those are poultices, Bull. You really have to stop drinking those!”

"And Rocky would love to get his hands on those little traps you build,” he continued as if he hadn't heard. “I bet the two of you could blow the crap out of some fortifications.” _And damn if that mental picture wasn't...distracting._

He hurried on before he could lose his train of thought. “You don't need a bow to kick ass, Kadan. All you need to do is figure out what you want. The rest will fall into place.”

The sullen twist to her mouth relaxed and Adaar's expression grew thoughtful. “I _do_ like making things explode.”

“I know, right?” he laughed, visions of mayhem filling his mind.

“Thanks, Bull.” Her voice was so soft he nearly missed it.

“Always, Kadan.” It was the same promise it always was, but he'd make it as many times as she needed to hear it.

Her eyes had a wet sheen to them when she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, and he knew he wasn't imagining the taste of salt when she parted her lips and deepened the kiss. He pulled her into his lap, twining his fingers in the mass of her hair as he gently tipped her head back to look up at him.

Small crystalline droplets clung to the spikes of her lashes, but she offered a tremulous smile, the first in weeks, and brushed her knuckles along the hard line of his jaw. “I've missed you, Bull,” she whispered. “So fucking much.”

“I never left, Kadan,” he gently reminded, smoothing her hair back from her face. “Don't plan to, either.”

Adaar's fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, and she pulled him forward, leaning in to close the remaining distance between them. There was a hunger to this kiss that the previous had lacked and she used teeth as much as lips or tongue, alternating sharp little bites with sweeping caresses. Her hand slid around to skim the broad expanse of his chest, roaming in a random pattern until it dipped lower, teasing at the muscles of his abdomen.

Her breath came in a series of ragged gasps when she broke the kiss and pulled away to work at the buckles on his harness, shifting in a way that had him biting the inside of his cheek to keep from bucking up into her. They'd barely started, and he was already so hard he ached. He wanted to take his time with her, but _fuck_. He only had so much restraint, especially after so long without.

Ignoring the pounding of his heart, the roaring in his ears, he caught her hand, still working furiously at the stubborn buckle, and flashed a deceptively lazy grin. “What's the rush?”

“It's been so long,” she panted, grinding against him. “Too long.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, unable to keep the strain from his voice. His hands settled on the crest of her hips, firm enough to keep her still.“Not arguing there. But we have plenty of time, Kadan.” _Unless you keep doing_ that.

He nipped at her ear, smiling at the goosebumps that broke out over her skin, and whispered, “There's no one here. No meetings... no big jobs that can't wait...no disgruntled seekers...no reason to hurry.” Each phrase was followed by a kiss as he moved in a line down the column of her throat. Adaar shivered but her frantic movements had ceased. The pulse in her neck fluttered light and quick, and he laved the spot with his tongue, taking a moment to just breathe her in. She smelled of leather and sweat and the wax she used on her bow. Beneath that was a scent unique to her, and something he found impossible to describe. It reminded him of home, though he was certain he'd never encountered anything like it back in Par Vollen.

She watched him as they undressed each other. The violet of her eyes darkened to a deep purple in the fading light as he laid her back, the paned glass of the windows casting an intricate pattern of shadow across her skin. He traced each line in light, feathery touches as his hands deftly navigated the terrain of her body. There was not an inch of her he hadn't explored, and he took his time reacquainting himself with the the familiar, and committing to memory the new.

Beneath him, she trembled and writhed, breasts heaving as she panted for air, soft cries falling from her lips. He captured her mouth with his own, gathering her up in his arms and rolling until she was seated on top of him. Smiling up at her, he cupped her face, his free hand curling around the curve of her hip. Her eyes widened when she understood what he was offering her, and she turned her face to press her lips to his palm in a shaking kiss.

Her touch was tentative at first, growing more sure as she gained confidence. He was content to let her set the pace, idly fondling her breast while he settled for a more passive role. Taking charge in the past had been about giving her a safe place to escape the burden of command, but after everything that had happened, she needed something more. He couldn't change any of the crap that had thrown her life into chaos, but he could give her this small measure of control.

His eye slid closed and a groan escaped him as nimble fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing, guiding, until he was buried in her heat. His hands closed loosely around her waist to steady her, but it was she who set the rhythm with a languid roll of her hips.

There was nothing more beautiful than watching his kadan slowly come undone. Everyone had a face they kept hidden, secret parts of themselves they never showed to the rest of the world. For all his teasing about how easy it was to read her, Adaar was no different. But when she gave herself to him, she held nothing back. She took everything she was, every strength, every weakness, every insecurity, and laid it all bare before him. It was absolute trust, honesty in its purest form, _connecting with someone in both body and soul_. For one who had spent his entire life dealing in lies, it was the most precious gift he'd ever received, and those few moments of watching it all play out on her face again were enough to send him hurtling over the edge with her.

  
Exhaustion caught up with her, and she was soon asleep. He'd had years to become accustomed to the feeling that swelled in his chest as he watched her sleep, and still, there were times it managed to catch him off guard. Friends were not something he'd lacked over the course of his life. He'd loved them all, and ended up mourning for most of them. But this, with her, was different. He could drown in the depths of his love for her, and die the happiest he'd ever been. Finding her was like finding a piece of himself he hadn't even known was missing.

The threat of losing her had scared him, far worse than any demon could. Even in that final battle with Corypheus, he'd never let himself acknowledge the very real possibility that she could lose. And then the very mark that had allowed her to defeat the magister was killing her, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do but watch.

It was why, despite everything, he couldn't find it in him to hate Solas. He really, really wanted to, considering that the damned mage was just planning on killing them all anyway. But if he had to choose between losing her now and losing her later, he would pick later every time, especially if he probably wasn't going to be around long enough to miss her anyway.

He wrapped his arms around her and tried to sleep, knowing it was going to be a while. There were some things even a stick couldn't help him get over.

 

*****

  
“You never told me what you ended up doing with the Chargers,” Adaar remarked one night.

His kadan was more like her old self with every passing day. He knew she still had shit to work through, but that was fine. He'd carried his own baggage around for two years. The important thing was that she was dealing with it.

“I put Krem in charge for a bit. He pretty much led them during the Inquisition anyway, so I know he'll keep the boys in line.”

“Have you heard from them?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “They took an escort contract in Orlais not too long ago, but that should be wrapping up soon.”

Adaar went quiet, brows furrowed in thought. After a few minutes, she said, “You'll be going back with them.”

“Soon, yeah,” he sighed. “Once the job's done, they're going to wait for me in Val Royeaux.” They hadn't really talked any further on what she wanted to do after Skyhold, though they both knew his place was with the Chargers. He hoped when he returned to them she'd be at his side, but ultimately, it had to be her decision.

“Varric wrote. He said Shokrakar sends her regards and wants to know when I'll be joining them in Kirkwall. I'm assuming the original message was something along the lines of 'Get your head out of your ass and come home.'” She smirked as she said it, but her eyes remained troubled.

“Hey.” He leaned over and plucked the dragon's tooth from where it hung above her breasts and held it up for her to see. “Wherever you decide to go, nothing changes. We're always together, no matter what.”

Her eyes were warm as she smiled up at him. Slowly, she closed her fingers around his and shook her head. “I don't care where I end up, Bull, as long as I'm with you. I'm not going to Kirkwall.”

He took a moment to process the feeling flowing through him and realized it was relief. Then, because he had to be certain, he asked, “You sure, Kadan? I meant it when I said-”

The rest of his statement came out as a low groan when she kissed him, long and thorough. “Please, Bull, this one time, let my first answer be enough.” She rubbed her cheek against the scruff of his beard and whispered, “This is what I want. If I seemed conflicted, it's only because I always thought I'd be going home once this was all over with.”

“You still could,” he felt compelled to point out, because he doubted any of them had given much thought to what would happen after. Living day to day didn't leave much time for thinking about the future.

“I am,” she said simply. “Home just wasn't where I thought it was. Besides,” she purred, nodding at his half of the necklace and running a fingertip along the top of his belt. “Why accept a substitute when I could have the real thing?”

Well. That settled it, then.

The next morning they made plans to leave Skyhold. A few of the remaining merchants wanted to leave at the end of the week and agreed to share their supplies in exchange for an escort. Not the best job he'd ever taken - pretty much like being paid with rice, in fact – but it was easy work and meant they didn't have to carry a bunch of crap down the mountain.

Adaar spent much of their remaining time walking the grounds of Skyhold. They both believed disbanding had been the right decision, but he knew it still hurt her to see it all go. Most everyone had left by now, though the seeker had stayed behind out of what he suspected to be worry over Adaar. Eventually, even Cassandra decided it was time for her to take her leave, but not before exchanging teary goodbyes with Adaar, and offering him one last sparring match.

After so long sitting idle, it felt good to have a weapon in his hands again, and going up against Cassandra was always fun. The seeker didn't pull any punches, and gave back as good as she got. In the end, they agreed to call it a draw, though if he were feeling more honest, and Cassandra less charitable, she'd have been named the winner. Friends they may be, but she'd never let him forget that comment he'd made about women under the Qun. It probably didn't help that he reminded her. For old times. She was so easy to mess with.

It wasn't until later while undressing for bed that he noticed one of the clasps on his brace was loose. He waited for Adaar to finish talking with Dorian – their chats with the crystal had become something of a nightly ritual – and showed it to her.

“What happened?” She took the brace from him and frowned at the damage.

He shrugged. “Lucky hit from the Seeker, I guess. Think you can fix it?” They were leaving in two days and he was not looking forward to a trek through the mountains without it.

She nodded. “I think so.” She grinned up at him and added, “What did you?”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

She wasn't buying it. Innocence was not something he'd ever been able to pull off convincingly.

“You said something, didn't you?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “She fights better when she's riled up.”

She laughed and indicated the brace. “Clearly.”

“I was helping. Encouraging, even.”

Adaar hummed in agreement, but her attention was already back on her task. “I could pad the supports while I'm at it, if you like. There's still plenty of materials in the undercroft...”

He glanced over to see what had made her lose her train of thought and saw that she had turned the brace over to study it from another angle. Her eyes were bright, her face flushed with growing excitement. Okay, now he was getting worried.

“Uh, Kadan? I just need it to not give out on me in the middle of a fight. There's no need to, you know, make it explode or shoot fire or anything.”

The look she sent him clearly said she thought he was the weird one. “Why would your brace need to shoot fire?”

“It _doesn't_. That's the point.”

“Oh.”

“Mind telling me what's going on in there?” he asked, with a gentle tap to the side of her head.

She bit her lip, hesitating. “Just an idea for something. I-I don't want to say until I know if it will work.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It doesn't have anything to do with this,” she said quickly, and nodded at his brace. “I'll have this fixed tomorrow.”

He wasn't at all surprised to find her half of the bed empty later that night, and he had a good idea of where he would find her. With a tired sigh, he reached for his pants and began dressing. This wasn't the first time she'd done this; his kadan could be quite single-minded when she was working on a new contraption, and whatever she was planning had her pretty damn excited.

At least Dagna was gone. Everyone had agreed long ago that the two of them were never to be left unsupervised. The little dwarf woman's techniques were completely different than his kadan's, but both seemed to have a fondness for blowing shit up. Even before Three-Eyes, Adaar had been just a little too attached to those exploding arrows of hers. Maybe he ought to rethink pairing her up with Rocky...

Nah.

He found her in the undercroft hunched over one of the work tables, just like he knew he would, various tools and bits of metal spread out before her. His brace had been placed neatly to one side in the only corner free of clutter. Taking it in his hands, he could see that she'd already finished with it. The loose clasp had been replaced, and the metal supports had been reinforced and padded with some kind of supple leather. He fastened it on, grunting in appreciation as he took a few steps to test it out. That one spot that always rubbed against his boot didn't now.

“You do good work, Kadan.”

Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice, her mouth falling open in a startled gasp. “Bull! I didn't hear you.”

He chuckled at her guilty expression. “I noticed. Lucky for you, I'm not an assassin.”

“I'm not important enough to send assassins after now, Bull,” she snorted, returning her attention to her work. Without looking up, she added, “I'm sorry if I woke you.”

It was more her absence that woke him more than anything but he waved off her apology all the same. “I slept yesterday. I'm good.”

“You could always go back to bed, you know,” she laughed.

“And miss...whatever that is? Nah. I'm fine, Kadan. Really.”

“Alright,” she tossed him a teasing grin. “If you're going to stay, I'm sure I can find _something_ for you to do.”

'Something' turned out to be a lot less fun than he imagined, and mostly involved him holding little pieces of metal or straps of leather in place while she fastened them to what looked like part of a spaulder from leftover armor. Her pace was slow and laborious, but what she lacked in dexterity, she made up for in sheer determination. Every now and then, she would stop to consult a crude diagram she had sketched on a piece of parchment and mutter to herself, adjusting this or that, but for the most part, they worked in comfortable silence. Gradually, he began to get an idea of what she had in mind.

It was a sort of harness fashioned to cover the shoulder and strap around the chest, much like his, but that was where the similarities ended. The shoulder guard attached to a brace that ran the length of the upper arm and ended in a leather sleeve covered with a metal cap. She'd fixed a short rod to the cap that ended in a complicated clamp. Some kind of prosthetic, he assumed, but not one meant to hold a blade.

“You gave me the idea,” she said quietly, holding it out so he could get a better look. “Well, your brace, anyway.”

He turned the harness over in his hands and admired her craftsmanship. “Not bad, Kadan. I'd have went with a hook, myself.”

“It's only a prototype, so I could switch to one later if I needed to,” Adaar replied, head cocked in thought as she considered. “But right now, that wasn't really what I had in mind.”

“Too bad. You could make that look totally work for you.”

“You really do have a problem, Bull.”

“More than one, Kadan,” he cheerfully agreed. “What _did_ you have in mind?” He had some idea already after looking it over, but if he was right, he wanted to hear it from her.

Adaar walked over to the weapons bench and picked up her bow. She proudly pointed to a metal collar that she had added to the grip, practically vibrating in excitement as she explained,“The clamping mechanism on the prosthesis locks on here. I won't know for sure until I test it, of course, but with this, I should be able to shoot again.”

She was stubborn, his kadan, and clever besides. He should have known this wouldn't keep her down for long. He swept her up in a massive hug, laughing at her squawk of surprise, and kissed her breathless, elated at her victory.

“Seems like the only thing left to do is try it out.”

“You're going to have to put me down for that, Bull.”

Her voice took on a husky note that indicated she was fine where she was though, and while joy still shone in her eyes, something else had begun to smolder in their violet depths as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Adjusting his hold, he slid a hand down to cup the curve of her ass and pressed his lips to her throat, all the while slowly moving them toward the nearest sturdy surface. “In a bit, Kadan.”

The sun had been up for at least an hour by the time they made it out to the archery targets. It was a typical cold morning for Skyhold, but the sky was clear and calm. Adaar slid the harness on, carefully fastening the many buckles and straps. She flexed and bent what she could of her arm to ensure the prosthetic was secure but not restrictive. When she was satisfied with the way it fit, she attached her bow to the artificial limb and took a few practice draws before lining up an actual shot.

With a deep breath, she let the first arrow fly. It missed the target, but that did nothing to stop the wild grin from spreading over her face as she quickly readied another arrow. Each successive shot got a little closer to the mark as she adjusted her new technique, until they were at least hitting somewhere on the target more often than not. It had to be different, without the sensation of the bow in her hand, or the ability to control it's movement with a twist of her wrist. He still remembered his own trials after losing his eye, and how long it took to adjust to combat with no depth perception. It had taken her time to perfect her aim while she had both hands, and it would take time to perfect it again now that she only had one, but he had no doubts that she would. Now that she knew it was possible, she'd never accept anything less.

He leaned back against the wall and watched her practice, his heart filled with pride for her. Having her at his side, back in the thick of things, was going to be fun, and he almost felt sorry for anyone that was stupid enough to cross her, the mage included.

_His kadan was back._


End file.
